When you're a child, you think your heart is breaking every single day. It starts when you fall and scrape your knee and continues up until your first crush doesn't check yes that they like you back when you pass them a note. As you get older, your heartbreak changes as you do, so, what was once life shattering to you when you were 5 is not what is life shattering to you at 13. I learned at 14 what real sadness is, and it's much worse than a scraped knee, a failed test, a pimple on your nose, or a crush's rejection. What I thought was sad before now became petty, and I'd do anything to have my normal, everyday "I have no clothes to wear" simple struggles back.
When I was 14, I learned about real sadness when my dad died. This was my first heartbreak. It was worse than anything I'd felt before, and to this day, eight years later, it still is the worst thing that's happened to me. Suddenly, the nerves of starting my first year of high school subsided, and I could only focus on starting high school without my biggest supporter by my side. I had lost my best friend. I wasn't your normal, Long Island spoiled brat teenager anymore; I was one of "those kids" that everyone at school knew because "her dad died." It became a defining piece of my identity. I let it take me away from who I was, swallow me up whole, and let me completely identify as the girl who struggles with anxiety and depression, or the girl (for a long time) who couldn't function or cope through a loss. Losing my dad was the first time my heart was broken, but it certainly was not the last.
Fast forward to my freshman year of college, where I'm struggling to take this new opportunity to redefine myself. "I don't have to be sad here," I thought. October of my freshmen year, I met a guy. He really liked me. He liked me so much, he waited around four months for me to give him the time of day. February of my freshmen year, he offered to drive me home in a snowstorm. Turns out, it didn't even snow that day, but he offered to drive me anyway. He came home with me and met my mom, my brother, my puppy, and heard all about my dad. After that, we dated for three years. It was certainly the first time I was truly in love. We went on vacations together, we joined Greek life together, and we had an apartment together. Keep moving forward to the winter of my senior year, and I receive a text, asking if he could call, to tell me he "doesn't feel the same way about me that he used to." And just like that, I lost my best friend. My heart shattered again, and all I could think about is how I wish I had my dad to cry to. This was my second heartbreak, but unfortunately, it wouldn't be the last.
Only a month or so after that relationship ended, my sorority received a bunch of new girls who were going to join our sisterhood. I was on the executive board, and I couldn't wait to make my final semester in the house really count. I put myself out there to connect with each and every girl in hopes of finding a potential Little Sister. Well, spoiler alert, I found one. We bonded on every level. We had the same taste in music, the same taste in clothes, the same work ethic, the same hobbies, similar family backgrounds, and we couldn't get enough of each other. I knew she wanted me from day one, and that was 100 percent OK with me because I wanted her, too. Sure enough, we were matched, and I couldn't wait to spoil her rotten, add her to the family tree and make lifelong memories with her. I knew this would be a great distraction from the pain I was feeling from being dumped, just as I thought being in that relationship would distract me from the pain I felt of losing my dad. Well, insert one pair of anxious Big and Little, separate with a summer apart, shake and stir for the new school year, and you've got the perfect recipe for disaster. A month into this semester, my Little sister wrote me a letter saying she was disowning me, and adopted a new Big the next day. This was the third time my heart was broken. I didn't know why loss seemed to be following me, but I didn't think there was anything I could do about it, so I accepted my fate and moved on.
This semester has been full of ups and downs for me. Panic attacks, a new boyfriend, delaying graduation, moving into a house with my best friends. While I should've been grateful for the positives, I could only focus on the negatives. I'm the first to admit I'm a wallower, but I don't know when I turned into this big pity party. This realization was the fourth time my heart was broken. I couldn't believe that I'd lost who I was as a person and let these events become who I am. I was sad that I'd lost myself, and honestly, that hurt the most out of all of my heartbreaks. Thankfully, one day I woke up and finally realized I had to stop letting the letdowns in my life define me. News flash, Sam, when you're complaining all the time, no one wants to be around you. What you put out into the universe is what you'll get back, so stop putting out garbage and you'll start getting back happiness. I know it's much easier said than done, but I've begun to live in the moment and accept what I have for what it is, and honestly, I couldn't feel more loved.
Heartbreak comes in all different forms. It can be losing a loved one, getting broken up with, losing a best friend, and so much more. What you've got to remember is that heartbreak doesn't define you. Don't ever base who you are on the people in your life. Stay true to yourself, and you'll be fine through the tough times. And remember, as cliché as it sounds, no one can love you until you love yourself.
